


No Cuppa, But There is a Shower

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Outage, Rough Sex, Showers, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8035531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: When John gets home the power is out. He doesn't expect it to lead to Sherlock's bed.





	No Cuppa, But There is a Shower

John climbed up the stairs after a long day of work, tired, and looking forward to a good cuppa and a hot shower. The stairs were dark, but he climbed them with long familiarity, frowning a bit as he pushed open the door and found the flat dark as well, save a bit of light streaming in from the window.

He flipped the switch and nothing happened. Power outage. Cursing, he stepped into the flat, moving carefully, never quite knowing where Sherlock had left his latest pile of stuff. There was a pile of blankets on the sofa and he realized it was cold, the late autumn chill seeping into the room.

Just as he walked past the sofa, the blankets suddenly shifted. John’s heart leaped, but he turned slowly, only to realize there was a mop of curly hair and a pair of pale blue eyes staring out at him.

“Christ, Sherlock,” he said, taking a step back with more calm then he felt.

“The power is out. And it’s cold,” said Sherlock, pulling the blankets a little closer around him, his voice muffled by however many layers he had.

John ran a hand through his hair. “Well, we could get a hotel room for the night. Mycroft forget to pay the light bill?” He moved carefully into the kitchen.

Sherlock scoffed and the pile of blankets slowly rose from the sofa, a bit too much like an avenging ghost for John’s tastes.

“Do you have every blanket in the flat?” asked John, trying not to be unnerved by the apparition behind him as he searched for a candle or a torch.

“Not all of them, no,” mumbled Sherlock.

John found a candle and matches and lit it before turning to face Sherlock. Somehow the flickering candlelight made him look even more ghostly than before. He noticed one of the blankets. “Hang on, is that mine?”

“Some of them,” Sherlock shuffled back to the sofa as John shook his head and followed him.

John set the candle on the coffee table and rubbed his hands together. “Well, let me see if I can get the fireplace going, since you didn’t even bother with that.”

Sherlock gave a shrug (at least he seemed to, it was hard to tell). John rolled his eyes and went to the fireplace, crouching and putting down some logs. The temperature reminded him of Afghanistan, and the chill that came to the mountains. He rubbed his shoulder without thought and got the fire started, watching it catch.

“There we go, that’ll help.” He walked over and settled in his chair, still wearing his coat. By some miracle the blanket was still on the back of his chair and John unfolded it, tucking it around himself. Sherlock seemed to be staring off into space, as he did sometimes, the flickering lights reflecting in his eyes.

They sat in silence for a just a short time before the lights came back on. Sherlock ducked his head, momentarily blinded. John sighed and stood, folding up his blanket before going into the kitchen and turning on the kettle. He couldn’t help his smile as he stepped back out and saw the ridiculous pile that Sherlock was under.

“Right, well, while you’re extracting yourself from that, i’m going to take a shower, warm up a bit.”

“I don’t retain body heat well,” grumbled Sherlock. “Why do you think I wear my coat?”

John, unable to resist, walked over and tousled his hair for just a moment, since it was the only part visible. Shaking his head at his ridiculous flatmate, John hung up his coat, stripped off his jumper, and made his way into the loo.

He was pleased the water warmed up quickly while he stripped the rest of the way. Still feeling the aches and pains of the day, plus the added chill, he looked forward to a hot shower.

No sooner had John stepped in and ducked his head under the water, then he heard the curtain move. Silently counting to three, he turned and, sure enough, found Sherlock standing in the back of the tub. Naked, clearly still cold, Sherlock.

“What the hell are you doing?” John enquired.

“I’m cold. Logically the hot water will help warm me up.”

“And then when you step out of the shower and the water evaporates you’ll be cold again,” said John. “Basic science.” He turned back to the stream.

Sherlock moved up behind him. “Christ, you are cold,” said John as Sherlock touched him. He sighed and moved out of the way, shivering a bit himself as he stepped out of the spray. “Well go on, then.”

“There is enough room for both of us,” Sherlock grabbed his wrist and tugged him closer.

“Sherlock, that’s not… Two blokes…”

“You were in the Army, John. You’ve showered with men before.” Sherlock reached for the soap and John tried not to stare at his hands. Or any other body parts.

“Trust me, the army does not shower like this,” muttered John.

Sherlock ignored his protests and pulled him a little closer. Now he was all but pressed up against the taller man. John tried to will his body to behave itself, but, as usual, it didn’t listen. And of course Sherlock noticed.

Before Sherlock could make any comments, John cut him off, taking the soap from him. “You really shouldn’t be that chilled, especially under that many blankets. Would help if you put on some weight.”

“Transport,” answered Sherlock, glancing down at John.

John pretended not to notice where his eyes had flickered to. Just two friends. Taking a shower. Together. He licked his lips. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt.”

“You’re attracted to me, John.”

 _Damn._ “Well, we are kinda squished together in here.”

Sherlock reached out and put a hand on John’s chest, trailing his fingers through the soap bubbles. “I don’t mind.”

Of course he didn’t mind. Sherlock Holmes and his bloody brilliant brain, bloody beautiful cheekbones, and bloody gorgeous eyes. Sod it. John reached up and put his hand around the back of Sherlock’s neck, pulling him down and kissing him solidly.

Sherlock moaned, feet slipping a bit in the tub as his knees wobbled.

John shut off the water. “Come on, before you slip and give yourself a concussion.” He tugged Sherlock out and through the other door into his bedroom. He stole another kiss before pushing Sherlock back onto the bed, noting distantly that most of his blankets seemed to be here.

Sherlock’s damp curls fell in his eyes as he watched John, shivering slightly in the still cool air.

“Let me warm you up a bit, yeah?” said John, reaching over and grabbing the lube he knew Sherlock kept in his bedside drawer.

Sherlock nodded and let his legs fall open.

John gave a slightly feral grin and kissed him again, running his hands along Sherlock’s pale skin. Sherlock arched into the touch, reaching up to run his hands through John’s wet hair.

“I got you,” muttered John, kissing down Sherlock’s jaw to nibble on his tempting throat, feeling him swallow underneath him. Meantime he got the bottle open, coated his fingers and began to tease.

“Yes, John. Please,” moaned Sherlock hands skidding against John’s damp skin.

John’s kisses moved down. He fastened his lips around one budding nipple as he pushed his fingers inside, listening to Sherlock’s low cries of pleasure. He tasted of the soap, and something else, something purely _Sherlock_.

Sherlock spread his legs wider, one hand going back to grab the headboard for support. “More.”

John added another finger, laving his nipple with his tongue before moving back up for another claiming kiss, free hand cupping Sherlock’s cheek.

“I’m gonna take you, Sherlock,” whispered John, grabbing a condom from the same drawer where the lube had been. “I’m going to take you with this and then we’re both going to get tested so next time I can feel all of you.”

“Yes, John.” Sherlock’s eyes were hooded as he watched John tear the wrapper with his teeth and roll the condom on.

John pushed Sherlock’s knees up, kissing him again as he began to push into him. Sherlock moaned and wrapped his arms and legs around him, pulling him deeper.

Swearing, John fought to keep his movements slow, though Sherlock clearly had little patience for that. With a growl, John pulled out and flipped Sherlock over, pushing him down with one hand between his shoulder blades as he thrust in again.

“Yes!” Sherlock cried out, fisting the sheets in his hands.

John grabbed his hips and moved steadily, fingers almost bruising as he squeezed. Sherlock moaned, eyes tightly shut as he rocked back against him.

With another low growl, John leaned over Sherlock’s back. He grabbed his hair and tugged, earning another cry of pleasure.

John pulled out again and flipped him back onto his back, pinning Sherlock’s wrists above his head with one hand as he gave into his desire, pounding into him, other hand wrapping around Sherlock’s cock.

“Come for me,” ordered John.

“ _John,_ ” groaned Sherlock, coming almost instantly, hot come landing on his chest and stomach.

Shifting one more time, John nearly doubled Sherlock over, chasing his own orgasm, watching ecstasy wash across his lover’s face. He came hard, swearing again, eyes slamming shut.

When he was spent and got his breath back, John carefully lay Sherlock back down and pulled out. Sherlock stretched like a cat, practically purring. John leaned down and kissed him one more time before padding to the bathroom to toss the condom.

By the time he came back, Sherlock had rolled himself up in the blankets. “Wanker,” muttered John, making sure the house was closed up for the night and turning the kettle back off. He climbed back into Sherlock’s bed, only for Sherlock to throw an arm and a leg over him as soon as he settled.

John kissed the top of Sherlock’s head, wiping away the still-damp curls. Sherlock gave a little kiss to his chest and sighed contently. John held him and felt himself drifting off. This was not the hot shower and a cuppa he’d planned on; it was something much, much better.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to TheArtStudentYouHate. Come follow me on tumblr at merindab.tumblr.com


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